Flavors
by The Renowned Obscurity
Summary: OneShot. Paul decides his new favorite flavor is Damion. ::Coldcoffeeshipping:: Yaoi, Rating Subject to Change.


**I should just be slapped for writing this. I don't even know what to say. Except it's plotless and sexy. Inverse of Disaster inadvertently gave me the idea and I ran with it. This was the result.**

**Ignore Dawn, she's unimportant. Also ignore the slight and pretty much unavoidable OOCness that comes with writing Paul. But I tried.**

…**Rating because of alcohol usage, coarse language, and…citrus-y stuff. Maybe I should up it, just to be safe.... Either way, you have been warned.**

**Disclaimer: Oh, if only I owned Pokemon, Damion and Paul would have sexy adventures with each other all the time… /dreams/**

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**Flavors**

Paul, believe it or not, was a rather picky eater. He didn't like sweets; spicy foods didn't settle well with him. Sour and bitter foods on the other hard… Those were his favorites. He liked his coffee black, tea unsweetened, food tinged with a hint of citrus.

But, above all, Paul loved his liquor. The hard stuff, of course. This was because, no matter how much he drank, Paul could never get truly drunk. Only buzzed enough to get his mind off his nagging girlfriend. This could be potentially bad for his health, as there is never a sign when he's had too much. Paul couldn't vomit the poison out of his system either, but for the most part, he couldn't care less. He loved alcohol through and through.

And that's precisely why Paul was currently at a bar. It was a Saturday night, and his girlfriend Dawn was out with some of her friends, leaving Paul alone to do whatever he desired. It goes without saying that he chose to drink the night away.

Paul took a sip of his drink – bourbon on the rocks. He unfortunately couldn't afford much else tonight; he was strapped for cash at the moment. His cold eyes scanned the bar, scoping out the other patrons. You could meet some pretty interesting characters in bars. Except for the fact that most of them seemed to be drunk out of their minds. And, for the most part, Paul couldn't stand drunkards.

Like the one currently stumbling around the bar for example.

He was blond with a lanky build – definitely did not seem like the type to hold his liquor well. He managed to make his way over to the bar where Paul was sitting, throwing his arm drunkenly around the purple haired man.

"Hey baby," the blond slurred, his face pressing close to Paul's. "Lemme…lemme buy you a drink…"

Paul only scowled and shoved the man off of him.

"You barkeep! Gimma 'nother drink!" the blond demanded, sliding over to the next barstool.

"You already have half a glass in front of ya!" The gruff old man in charge of the bar exclaimed, wiping down the counter.

"How many has he had?" Paul asked the bartender, glancing over at the blond with disdain.

"Only one. He hasn't even finished his second one," the man replied.

Paul couldn't help but laugh in disbelief. Just one? And he was already trashed. He couldn't help but pity people who couldn't tolerate liquor; but then again, it might be nice to get drunk and let go of everything once in a while… Paul shook his head, his purple hair falling over his dark eyes. No. He was a person who liked to be in control of his actions, not some bumbling fool.

"Gimme 'nother!" the blond insisted, slamming his fist onto the counter irately. "For da lady!" He gestured to Paul, who growled when he saw the bartender's grin. He couldn't take much more of this. His night out, ruined by some intoxicated idiot…

"Sir, I think you've had enough. I'm gonna have to ask you to leave. …You didn't drive here, did ya?" the bartender asked.

The blond shook his head vigorously, and then used his index and middle fingers to stimulate someone walking.

"Good. So then would ya kindly walk your drunk ass outta here?!"

"No!" he exclaimed childishly.

"You!" the barkeeper then bellowed, addressing Paul. "Escort your friend outta my bar."

Paul scoffed. "Friend? I don't even know this loser."

"And I don't care! Just get him outta here 'fore I kick you out too!"

Paul downed the remainders of his glass then stood up. He couldn't risk being banned from the bar, not when it was one of the few good ones in town within walking distance. Sighing, Paul hoisted the blond over his shoulder and made his way to the exit.

"I knew…you wanted me…" the blond mumbled before slumping over. Well, Paul could always dump this guy on the curb and continue on with his night. It's not like he even knew where the guy lived or anything…

Paul stepped out into the cool night air, a sign that autumn was fast approaching, earlier than usual. He allowed the blond to clumsily slide off his shoulders, propping him against the brick wall of the bar. Paul began to head back inside when he heard the blond moan.

"Please…dun leave me baby," he slurred. Paul paused and massaged his temples, deep in thought. If you left a drunken man out on the streets, probably to die, would you be considered an accomplice to murder? Paul was a jerk, but he wasn't a murderer. It was a stupid thing to wonder really, but for some odd reason he felt conflicted about abandoning the blond. And Paul was not a person to feel guilty just about anything.

He turned to look at the blond sitting pitifully against the wall once more, contemplating. The blond's hair was oddly disheveled, and his orange eyes glazed over. _'Pathetic…' _Paul thought. _'And so vulnerable…'_

Paul felt himself start to cave in, and he sighed in defeat. First thing's first though. He rushed back into the bar and leaned against the counter heavily.

"I need the strongest drink you have. I don't care what," Paul breathed. The bartended looked at him, puzzled, but shrugged and went to fetch his drink. He slammed the glass down in front of Paul not too long later. The purple haired man didn't bother to ask what it was; he downed it all in a single gulp, hoping more alcohol would knock some sense into him and dissuade him from what he was about to do. Paul took a sidelong glance at the half-empty glass beside him and an image of the blond flashed before his eyes.

"Fuck," he cursed. Standing up from the barstool, he headed back outside, hands shoved deep into his pockets and a scowl etched upon his face. Paul would slap himself later for this; he just knew it.

"Get up," he snapped coldly at the blond, who looked up at him stupidly. He then did his best to stumble to his feet, only to fail miserably. Paul grasped onto his arm firmly and yanked him to his feet. "You're going home, now."

"What…? …Home?" the blond mumbled.

Paul had to restrain himself from throwing himself headfirst into the wall. If only there was a way to call a cab and toss this guy in… It was too bad cabs rarely ran by this part of town… Paul then remembered what the blond said earlier, about walking to the bar. He must not live too far then… The purple-haired man then grimaced once he realized he was going to have to search him for an I.D. _'Anything to get him out of my sight faster…'_

Paul reached into the blond's bulging back pocket and grabbed his wallet. The blond giggled and slapped Paul playfully on the arm. "C'mon... Take it slow…"

Paul rolled his eyes and flipped open the brown leather wallet, searching for any form of identification. He managed to find the blond's driver's license among the clutter of crumpled receipts and bills crammed into the wallet.

'_Damion Pearl,' _Paul read as his dark eyes scanned over the plastic card. He then spotted his address and his jaw dropped. He didn't recognize the street name…because this Damion guy lived in the next town over! There was no way in hell he walked, unless he was some sort of exercise freak. Chances are, one of his friend's just dumped him here, with empty promises that they would be back later.

"Damnit! What the hell am I suppose to do with him?!" Paul exclaimed. He let Damion fall to the ground once more as he began to pace.

_'Take him home,' _a voice deep within Paul murmured. _'You know you just want to take advantage of his helpless state. And maybe Dawn will leave you alone if she finds you in bed with a cute blond…'_

"Or bitch at me until I die…" Paul mumbled.

_'That's why you just leave him here,' _another voice said. _'You don't even know this guy.'_

The voices began to bicker, growing louder and more scattered until they sounded like the buzz of static. Where was the sensible Angel to tell him what to do? But then again, Paul wasn't surprised there were only Demons arguing inside of him. Or maybe the alcohol was finally taking effect…

Either way, Paul had enough. "Shut the fuck up!" he yelled, grasping his head. A couple walking by looked from him to the nearly unconscious blond and picked up their pace.

Sighing, Paul pocketed Damion's wallet and heaved the intoxicated blond onto his shoulders. He didn't even know what he was going to do with the guy, or how he would even explain this to Dawn without getting killed. All Paul knew is that he couldn't just leave him lying in the street.

_'Of all the fucking time to develop a conscious…'_

XXX

"Here we are… Our- _My _apartment." Paul had to pause to correct himself. It was _his _apartment after all; Dawn only moved in with him. He didn't like to call it _theirs_ like she did. But it wasn't like Damion was even listening anyway… Paul dumped the blond onto the chic, black sofa in the living room.

The apartment was not at all cramped, with plenty of room for two people, although Paul originally bought it just for himself. The front door led into a rather spacious living room, which overlooked the town. It was connected to the kitchen that had all your basic amenities. There was a hallway in the back that led to the bedroom and bathroom.

Paul gazed at Damion's submissive form, at a loss for what to do now. At least the blond seemed to have transferred out of his blatantly crazy drunk phase. It was then Paul heard a beeping noise, coming from the answer machine sitting on a small table next to the couch. He pressed a button on the machine, and it crackled before coming to life. Dawn's voice could be heard, somewhat obscured by louder voices in the background.

"Hey Paul, sweetie," she greeted to Paul's chagrin. "I'll be staying over at Zoey's place tonight, with May. So don't wait up! Love you!" Sleepovers? As an adult? Paul scoffed. Still, it was good to know he wouldn't have to worry about Dawn coming in unexpectedly and seeing him with Damion…

He glanced at the blond once more, sighing. Maybe he could watch TV to pass the time… Plopping down on the couch, as far away from Damion as possible, Paul began to flip through the channels idly. The low buzzing of the television seemed to arouse the blond, as he slowly sat up, his movements careful. Damn, he was sore and his head hurt like hell.

"Where…where am I?" he asked, turning to stare at the purple haired man dazedly. Before Paul could respond, Damion clasped his hands to his mouth, orange eyes bulging.

_'He better fuckin' not,' _Paul thought, eyes widening. He had no time to move as Damion vomited, spewing his stomach's contents all over Paul. The plum haired man said nothing as he stood up, wary not to get any on the furniture, and stared down at the vomit staining his clothes in disgust. Damion just looked at him sheepishly and a bit disoriented.

"Oh… Oh man. I'm sorry…" he said, just barely managing to string together a coherent sentence.

Paul simply glared at him, dark, cold eyes piercing him like daggers. "Leave," he said finally, voice a deadly calm, "Now."

"But…" Damion began, holding up a hand.

"I don't fucking care," Paul replied harshly. "Now I am going to take a shower, and when I get out, you better be gone."

Without another word and ignoring Damion's pathetic pleads, Paul stormed out of the living room and into the bathroom.

"Shit," he cursed, when he discovered the bathroom door wouldn't lock properly. "Damn piece of crap." The damage was probably due to the many times Dawn would slam the bathroom out of rage every time they would fight. Paul couldn't exactly take a shower in peace when there was the prospect the Damion was still lurking around, not completely sober. If the blond was smart, he would've already high-tailed it out of there the moment Paul left.

Sighing, Paul stripped off his vomit-covered clothing and tossed them into the trash. It wasn't like he would ever wear them again, not after they had been tainted by Damion's vomit. He let the shower run for a minute to allow it to warm up and then stepped inside, sighing with pleasure as the near-scathing water cascaded down his skin. Paul simply stood there, allowing the water to pound on his head and back. It was relaxing after the past stress-filled night. In here, there was no Dawn or Damion to mess things up. Or maybe Paul thought too soon…

As soon as he leaned down to pick up the soap, the bathroom door flew open, and a disconcerted Damion stumbled in. His eyes seemed to light up as he spotted the toilet, and then proceeded to vomit copiously into the porcelain bowl. Damion then staggered to his feet but tripped in the process, grasping onto the shower curtain for support. It was only when Paul heard the snapping noises of the curtain steadily disconnected from the metal rings that he registered what was happening.

There Paul stood, in all his naked glory, in front of a dumbstruck Damion, who simply fazed up at him, at a loss for words. Why couldn't the fucker just have used the kitchen sink? Hell, why couldn't he just have left when told and thrown up in street? Why was Paul such an idiot to believe that the blond would actually listen to him?

Instead of turning and smashing his head against the tiled shower wall like he wanted to, Paul took one step out of the shower, not caring that he was dripping water all over the floor. Not caring that he was stark naked in front of a near complete stranger. He cocked his head and smiled maliciously.

"Like what you see?"

Damion could only gape stupidly like a fish before Paul gripped him by the collar and dragged him up to eyelevel. There was a minute of silence as the purple haired man glared at Damion with such intensity he was sure sparks were flying from his eyes. The blond cowered slightly, fully expecting to be punched across the face.

Instead, without warning, Paul kissed him full on the mouth. Hard. As they kissed, he propelled out of the bathroom and into the hallway, slamming Damion against the wall with great force. But the Paul never broke the contact. It was a messy clash of lips, teeth, and tongues. Damion's hands were pressed flat against the wall behind him, too fearful to touch anywhere on Paul's body. The purple haired man frowned inwardly, disappointed that the blond seemed more interested in touching the wall than him.

So Paul deepened the kiss, pressing himself hard against Damion. The blond whimpered and his hips bucked slightly, craving for more contact. Paul smirked between the kisses. So he _did_ want this after all… But Paul… He didn't know what he wanted. He didn't even know what he was doing.

Damion moaned as Paul slackened his grip on the blond's collar, hands trailing over his chest and lower, past his stomach, fingers hooking over the waistline of his jeans…

Paul stopped. He pulled away from Damion, staring at the blond's purple and swollen lips. He shoved him against the wall before retreating into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. Damion was smart enough to know not to follow, as much as he wanted to feel the purple haired man's touch again.

Paul, on the other hand, was breathing heavily, hands gripping the sides of the sink so tightly his knuckles turned a stark white. He looked up at himself in the mirror, peering past the curtain of wet hair hanging in front of his eyes.

"What the _fuck _was I thinking?" he asked to no one in particular, his face clearly disgusted. At first, he did it hoping to scare the blond off. Paul didn't imagine it escalating into so much more… And he hated himself for wanting it.

He shook his mop of shaggy purple hair, sending water droplets spraying everywhere, before staring at himself head on in the reflective surface of the glass.

Much like Damion, Paul's lips were darkened and slightly swollen from the rough contact. That electric kiss he shared with the blond was much different than anything he had ever experienced. It was nothing like kissing Dawn; he didn't have to worry about being too rough.

And even though Damion had consumed alcohol _and _threw up multiple times, his mouth did not taste repulsive at all. It was almost…sweet tasting, Paul mused. And despite his general aversion to sweet things, he didn't think it was all that bad. Actually, it was even better than that. Paul licked his lips, hoping that some of Damion's sweet flavor still lingered on them.

He lightly slapped his cheeks to snap himself out of his Damion-induced reverie. Paul was ready to step out of the bathroom fully prepared to face if Damion was still outside. Or worse – if he wasn't. Inhaling sharply, the purple haired man walked out into the highway only to find it completely deserted. He let out the breath he had been holding captive in his lungs. Paul felt an odd pang in his chest. Was it relief? Or disappointment…?

Suddenly, Paul felt at a loss. He was looking forward to having some fun tonight. How else was he supposed to release the pent up sexual desire building within him with both Dawn and Damion gone? Not bothering to get properly dressed, Paul headed down the hall in hopes he could find something as means of entertainment…

The apartment was chilly, but Paul could care less. He manually turned on the TV, an image of static snow appearing onscreen. Just as he was about to sit down, Paul felt himself be tackled by another person, a smaller, scrawnier one, but with enough force to knock him on the couch. Through the struggle and flailing limbs, Paul was able to distinguish the familiar features of the tackler – blond, with vivid orange eyes, slightly glazed over from the alcohol.

Damion.

Paul had no clue where the blond came from; he must've been hiding out in the kitchen. But he did know that the other man was currently on top of him kidding any exposed skin he could get his lips on. Which was a lot, seeing as the plum haired man was only clad in a towel.

While Paul was immensely enjoying the feel of Damion's lips and tongue sliding over his toned chest, he _hated _being on the bottom. He wouldn't let the blond hold control over him.

Paul gripped Damion's shoulders and used all his strength to flip them over, rolling off the couch in the process. They both hit the ground hard, the blond becoming dazed. Grunting in annoyance, Paul began to strip the smaller man of his clothing, down to his boxers, although he was satisfied to have obtained dominance. He had finally realized that _this _is what he really wanted, probably as much as the pouting blond.

As Paul forced himself harder onto the other man, lips clashing roughly together, he heard him whimper, this time more out of discomfort than of pleasure.

"What, the floor not comfortable enough for you?" the plum haired man sneered, cold eyes glaring down at the blond. He nodded slightly, looking meek. "You seemed pretty content against the wall," Paul grumbled. Still, he hoisted Damion into his arms bridal-style, towel dropping to the floor in the process. No matter; it would be off in a matter of minutes anyway.

Damion snuggled contentedly into Paul's chest as he carried him down the hall. "You're a little bitch, you know that?" Paul commented harshly. The blond said nothing, feigning sleep.

The purple haired man kicked open the bedroom door, throwing Damion carelessly onto the bed. Paul decided he would think about his actions later, and likely regret them. Especially if Dawn found it… Still, it was the blond's fault for being so damn irresistible. Maybe Paul would blame the alcohol. Yes, the alcohol that never seemed to impair his judgment. Now wasn't the time to think though.

Grinning hungrily, Paul pounced onto Damion, straddling his hips. As he captured the blond's lips into a lustful kiss, Paul decided, before getting completely lost in the man pinned beneath him, that most definitely sweet things weren't all that bad.

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**Zomg my longest one-shot ever. I just had to end it on a fluffy note. And did any catch the loose end? It'll probably be addressed in an alternate ending thing I was pondering… But who knows if I'll ever get around to writing it.**

**Gah, well I hope I didn't do _too _horribly on my first citrus-y scene. This is probably littered with typos though… **

**Please _please_ tell me what you thought! Concrit and anything will be greatly appreciated. But please don't flame just cuz of the pairing. That's just not cool. D:**

**Here's hoping you enjoyed this!**

**Also, do you find it odd that Word doesn't mark "THISISTOOHOTMYBRAINISBLEEDING" as a typo?**


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